Forwarning: a bit of some scary stuff ensues. I promise, nothing graphic.

Are you guys enjoying your Christmas present? :) I've worked hard for it just for you. ^.^ With love.

Chapter 37

Rebecca was waiting for him back in his apartment.

"Do I want to know how you got in here?" he asked. Numb. Hollow. Numb.

She smirked and brought up a finger, where a single, silver key hung. "Bakura."

"Since when have you and Bakura been on good terms?"

"Since last night." She started to spin the key's ring about her finger, sauntering towards him. All that he could register about her was that she was shorter than Tea, smaller, without those lightly freckled long legs.

"Looks like things didn't end well," she said.

Atem just looked at her. So numb.

Until she slid her arms over his shoulders.

He shoved her away.

"Get out."

She pouted at him. "I almost fell over. That wasn't very nice."

"Get out."

Her expression darkened, eyes flashing within their holes of mascara and lashes. "What's happened to you, Atem? When did you become such a jerk?"

"Maybe I was always a jerk," he spat.

"No, you weren't. You were sweet and sincere and cute. This isn't cute at all. Did she do this to you?"

In answer, he stepped towards her and snatched the key from her fingers. At the same time, he took her by the arm and shoved her towards the door.

"You've done this to me," he said, before opening the door, shoving her out, and closing it again with a chink of the deadbolt lock. In a rush of feeling he did the chain lock and the switch lock on the doorknob as well.

Then he went back to his bedroom and fell face first into his bed.

He didn't know how long he spent like that, drifting in and out of a sort of half-consciousness, not sure what to think or what had just happened to him. Once the shock wore off, though, he found himself sour with bitterness and rage.

Did she just dump him because of God?

Filled with a sudden zing of energy, he went to his music room and did some unfair pounding on the piano. The music that came out was heavy, clanging with unplanned sharps and flats that didn't get along, and loud. When he picked up his cello he bowed so hard he made mediocre mistakes, like playing more than one string at once when he hadn't meant to and scraping across the bridge.

Then he went to the glass case of his fine, decorative Irish flute and snapped the instrument in half.

A few days passed like that, bouncing between hurt rage and numbness. He hardly saw her during practice, as his vision would blur over with a buzzing red. Joey and Bakura had the mind to not comment on it and just did their job.

And when he drank, he did it with a vengeance. He could sleep without guilt now, he told himself. He could tell the giants on the horizon, with guilt and regret in their hands, to fuck it.

Mai's call on Sunday evening was the peak of it all.

"I've scheduled you for an AAA meeting tomorrow night." Her tone was cold and flat.

"What for?" he growled.

"Don't give me that shit, I've been watching Tea mope around for the past month while dating you and now I just caught her bawling so hard in her apartment she can hardly breathe. You've fucked up, now it's time to go to the doc and get your issues fixed."

He inflated with apocalyptic fury. "Oh, so that's what she told you?"

"She hardly said anything, thank you."

"Well then how about you use your eyes for a change and see what she's done to me?"

"I have," said Mai with a deadly, venomous fury. "You actually made it to all your morning appointments, could remember everything, made the fastest rocket launch in music history from zero to hero, your music actually doesn't suck, and you've reconnected with your grandpa and mother after ignoring them for a year and half. And what have you done for her?"

"You don't understand a thing—"

"You don't, you stupid drunk, so get to that AAA meeting Monday or I'm calling Kaiba!"

A vicious beeping told Atem Mai had hung up.

An hour later, Bakura and Joey walked through his apartment door, uninvited, to find Atem all but screaming at the unfairness of it all. He'd done quite a bit of throwing pillows around and tearing off his shirt, and he could tell Joey was trying very hard not to laugh.

Bakura, however, marched straight into the living room where Atem stood, snarling, to push a bottle of Atem's favorite mango and grape flavored rum into his chest.

"Bitches, right?"

Atem stared at the bottle, then Bakura, before putting a hand to his face to hide the sudden tears. For some reason, his anger had snapped at the sight of his friends and the pitiful agony he had been putting off all this time washed over him in waves.

Tea didn't want him. She had said he had been a mistake.

Bakura took back the cool bottle, not saying anything. Joey, however, must have sensed the emotional crisis overcoming Atem and came around to throw an arm over Atem's shoulders.

"It's okay, man, be as PMSy as you want. We're here for you."

Atem pushed his hand into his eyes so hard he saw stars. "I bought her a ring." His voice came out choked.

"Shit," said Joey.

"That was dumb," said Bakura.

"No one needs your opinion," said Joey.

"No," interjected Atem, falling backwards onto his couch which he had kicked into his coffee table earlier out of rage. "It was dumb. But…"

As one, Joey and Bakura fell onto the couch on either side of him. For some reason, the warmth of their bodies next to him made the tears come out harder, and he nearly bent in half to hide them.

"But you still wanted it," said Joey, softly.

Atem just nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Hate to tell you so, but—ow!"

Joey had reached over Atem to slap Bakura upside the head. "You got the booze, so I'll do the talking."

"No, it's fine," croaked Atem. "Bakura was right."

"As I was saying, but what made you realize that?" Bakura leaned back on the couch, and Atem heard the sound of the rum sloshing around as he adjusted the bottle.

"She dumped me because of her religion."

"No way," said Joey, sounding honestly surprised. "Why? She was always so cool with everyone else's beliefs."

"Because God said no," said Bakura with a snort. "I was trying to tell you from the beginning. She's a self-righteous saint who thinks we're nothing but dirty, lascivious sinners promised to hell. Probably doesn't want Atem spoiling her purity."

"I don't know…" said Joey, sounding uncomfortable.

"That's why you don't date girls who are in a cult," added Bakura, and Atem heard a pop of the cork. Bakura must have gotten out his pocket knife to do the honors. "Now, we all need to get drunk, call over some pretty girls, and pound out this stupid part of our lives forever."

And since Joey had been the one to originally suggest drunken wantonness, and Atem was too beaten to be anything other than a fallen leaf in the winds of their whims, the rum was open, alcohol was thrown back, and something loud and banging was blared out of Atem's first grade, surround sound speakers.

Before he knew it he was sobbing like a freak on Joey's shoulder. Then Joey was sobbing and blubbering with him. Bakura just cackled. Then they were all yelling insults at women that would have gotten them thrown in jail anywhere else. They were soon so caught up in being drunk and angry that they forgot about calling up girls or even heading out to the club to get properly sloshed as Atem suggested sometime later.

Atem felt it all. Then threw it all out. He tore into Tea, spouting all the thoughts he had tucked away and ignored, and Bakura happily joined him. Joey was much more hesitant, but didn't resist laughing at his friends more crude references.

Tea hadn't been good for him. Tea had made him feel guilty for who he was, even while saying she accepted him. Tea had called him wicked and wrong. Tea hadn't really loved him, just passively going with the flow to take advantage of him, or to get some action, or just to feel 'good.' And now the little tight-ass religious freak had tossed him aside like garbage because her Church wouldn't let her marry him in some building, or because she thought he would contaminate their children.

"Hell, she'd contaminate your children," said Bakura, who had somehow gotten hold of a bottle of whiskey through it all. "Raise them all to be judgmental, homophobic assholes."

"Like you'd 'ven want kids," slurred Joey, who was slumped over the arm of Atem's couch with a red solo cup held limply in his fingers. "Kids schmids. Poop and butts and kids"

"And did I tell you about when she found porn on my phone?" Atem felt his tongue slipping in his mouth.

"Yeah, and she totally flipped out on you?"

"Over pictures!"

"Porn," moaned Joey, lifting his cup into the air. "Yay porn! Titties. I like titties."

"How'd she ever make you feel loved?" crowed Bakura, lifting his whiskey into the air too. "Bitch all the way! Never giving you anything while you gave everything, then saying it wasn't enough!"

"Yeah!" Atem lifted up his bottle of rum, because apparently they were doing some kind of cheer. "Bitch!"

"Bitch," grumbled Joey, head still slung backwards over the couch. "Bitchy bitch bi-t-chheee. 'Tem, your door's pretty nice. Like'ta 've wood."

"Go home, drunk." Bakura said, sneering.

"I ain't drunk," Joey flung his arms around like a dolls, forgetting he still held the cup. Luckily, he had finished whatever was inside and the plastic cup crashed harmlessly into the window curtains.

"Goal!" crowed Atem, melting onto the floor face first, because the rug had been asking for it. It wasn't nearly as soft as it had said it was. "Wha'v 'bout 'bitches?"

"Okay, you're both done. Come on, Joey. Bedtime."

"Hee hee, boobs. 'Tem, yer door has boobs. Nuuuu, I don't wanna go! I wanna with 'Tem and the boob door!"

"Then get to bed, dipshit. You're done."

"Boobieeees!"

Atem laughed, rolling onto his side. He could still remember what hurt him, but it seemed so distant now. Why had he been so upset? Life was fine. It was going to be fine. There were boobs on his door.

He tried tracing out other boobs in his carpet and in the side of his coffee table, but had to stop to go pee. The golden fountain went on forever in the toilet, but then it was done and he was trying to remember what he had been doing before then. Everything was overly bright and euphoric. Had his bathroom ever looked so pretty? Tiles were nice. Oo, the floor in his hallway was nice too. This was a great apartment.

Bakura was there. Atem's bedroom behind him. Atem squinted into the darkness.

"Dark," he murmured. "I've got a really nice apartment."

"Sure you do," said Bakura, but his mouth was moving funny. Atem started squinting at it too. "Party time's done, Pharaoh."

"Done? Naw. Still got to find the boobies." He snorted and giggled. That was right. Joey had found boobs on his door. He wanted to see them too. Suddenly nothing sounded better then touching some boobs.

But even as he thought that, he abruptly plummeted from his euphoric fun into a really dark place he didn't like.

"Tea wouldn't like this," he whispered.

"Oh god, not that shit again," moaned Bakura. "That's it, come on. To the couch."

Atem let Bakura grab his shirt and start pulling him. He stumbled along, but he kept upright. Tears had filled his eyes again and suddenly nothing sounded better than curling up on that rug again and sobbing himself to death.

Bakura pushed him back onto the couch. For a moment, Atem's world was in free fall, and it reminded him of another time when he had been like this, drunk, and Tea had her willowy cool shoulders beneath his arm in the darkness. He hadn't known which way was up or down, but he had known the way towards her.

"I'm shit," he sobbed. "I want her back. I want her to marry me."

The couch cushion creaked as Bakura put a knee besides him. Atem felt another hard knee squeezing itself between him and the couch's back cushions.

And he was looking up at Bakura through tears. His white mane came about his shoulder and tickled his throat.

The voice Bakura spoke in next surprised him, as it was the rare voice, the one Bakura used when he wasn't trying to be a dick all the time. The honest one.

"You poor thing."

The white hair, scratchy and smooth all at once, pulled about his neck and something hot and soft pressed against Atem's mouth. He couldn't really see anything clearly at that point, so he just closed his eyes as even more warmth settled over him like a blanket.

And he floated. Softness beneath, warmth above, raw and exhausted and spent, like a hungry child with their mouth open to a merciless sky.

Then the warmth on his mouth moved and he realized Bakura was kissing him. Bakura was nearly laying on him, straddling him, coaxing his lips to move with his.

For a second, he let it happen. It felt nice to be acted on. To not have to move. It had been so long since he'd had another body to warm his, another body that cared and wanted him.

The next, he seized up, as thought lightening had struck him. An overwhelming sense of wrongness boiled up in him, spiking him with a precious flash of sobriety.

He didn't want this.

He pushed at Bakura, who only moved back reluctantly, eyes dark with want.

"It's alright, Pharaoh," he breathed, puffing whiskey scented breath into Atem's face. "I won't take advantage of you. This isn't like Rebecca. It's all going to be okay."

"I'm straight," he pushed out. It was hard when his body felt like lead and he suddenly felt so cold.

"Have you ever even tried it with a guy?" Bakura leaned back in, brushing his lips across Atem's. "Just try it. I'll pleasure you to sleep, make you forget all about it. It's okay."

Bakura backed off. But he didn't get off of Atem. Rather his fingers went to the button of Atem's pants.

Alarms were going off, spikes of irregular sobriety bouncing in and out of the twisting world.

"I don't want this," said Atem again.

"It's okay," soothed Bakura, even as Atem felt his buckle being undone.

"No, seriously, this is wrong."

"You've been with Tea far too long."

When he felt Bakura's fingers, the shock jolted him back into a sitting position, unsettling Bakura. Where before Atem had welcomed the sluggish, distant feeling, now he found himself trapped by it. He could hardly focus, couldn't think straight, couldn't get his body to move like he wanted to. It seemed an eternity before he could get his feet onto the floor.

"No," he heard himself mumble. "No, don't. Stop."

He stumbled to his feet, saw black, and put a hand to the couch. Once it cleared he started his tottering way towards his bedroom, the jolts of wrongness spiking through with each step. He could feel each breath in his throat, felt his stomach clenching.

At the last minute, he managed to get to the bathroom and the toilet, where his body fought to purge itself of the toxins.

He sensed more than saw Bakura watching.

Then he flushed, curled up on his fluffy bathroom mat, and passed out.